Clarity
by ShadowRunner
Summary: There are times in our lives when everything seems incredibly clouded and nothing makes sense. But every so often, during these moments of darkness, we experience a moment of clarity and everything suddenly makes sense. Of course, it’s what we chose to


Clarity

By: ShadowRunner

A one shot AU/fic which takes place well after any events that might occur in Book 7 but references some aspects of the Cannon Harry Potter Universe… Considering this is Slash (you are now warned) I have, without a doubt, taken certain liberties that I'm sure J.K Rowling never considered for her leading male characters. No harm is intended and I can only hope no foul occurred. If it makes everyone feel better I promise everyone will be put back in their respective places and all will be right in the world when I'm done borrowing them. Don't sue me please… I have so little already.

There are times in our lives when everything seems incredibly clouded and nothing makes sense. But every so often, during these moments of darkness, we experience a moment of clarity and everything suddenly makes sense. Of course, it's what one does with that clarity that makes all the difference.

Happy Reading J

ShadowRunner

The resounding crack shattered the peace, scaring away a great number of birds roosting in the trees surrounding the pasture. Taking flight they moved up and away quickly, undoubtedly upset that their safe haven had been invaded. However, as the echo faded a strange, uncomfortable silence fell over the scene.

In the middle of the field a young man was laying on his back. At first sight one might have assumed he were dead. He could have been, because for several seconds he lay there with his eyes closed. But then his eyes fluttered, his body twitched, and he groaned softly as he turned on his side, grabbing his chest with his right hand.

It took a considerable amount of effort but he was finally able to push himself up into a sitting position. Everything was a blur and while it might have felt like hours, he knew he'd only been down for a matter of seconds. He scanned the area, tensing slightly as a silhouetted shape moved towards him.

He barely had to time to react as he heard a whispered voice utter … something… and all too quickly he found himself lying back on the ground. He let out a noisy grunt as the shape, now identifiable as that of a young woman, jerked open his robes and shirt.

Hermione Granger winced but the anxiety in her eyes quickly shifted to relief as she realized the spell worked and had, in all likelihood, just saved the young man's life.

"Hold still," she said breathlessly as she pulled out her wand. "I need to remove the charm." Her actions were met with a second grunt of discomfort but she took that as a positive sign as it meant he really was alive but it didn't mitigate any of her concern. "Do you have any idea how lucky you were? He could have killed you."

The young man nodded but said nothing as he tried to sit up again. The whole of his upper body seemed to be burning; however, he assumed it was normal given the circumstances. Shifting around he got to his feet, gingerly testing out his balance. Hermione moved to assist him but he waved her off, indicating he needed a moment to himself. Besides, he was still shaken and not eager to discuss what had just happened with anyone just yet.

"Where the bloody hell do you think you're going?"

The young man stopped dead in his tracks and turned around. Alastor 'Mad Eye' Moody was standing directly behind him and, not surprisingly, he appeared to be angry, irritated, and shocked all at the same time.

"But more importantly," Moody growled as he limped closer. "What would you have done if that ruddy Death Eater's spell hadn't missed you?"

It was at this point that Ron Weasley realized he had a major problem on his hands. He shot a quick glance over to Hermione to see if she was going to say anything; however, she was using Moody's arrival as an excuse to examine the now visible bruise on his chest and hadn't heard the question. Ron winced again as her actions set off yet another spasm of pain and he gently pushed her hands away as he tugged his robe and undershirt back into place.

"I suppose it's better to be lucky than good," he muttered under his breath.

"Truer words have never been spoken, laddie," Moody snapped irritably. The night had gone to hell and he knew getting answers in the next few minutes was critical. His magical eye, which had been fixated on Ron, swiveled around to Hermione. As expected she looked both remorseful and relieved, which could only mean she had been the one who modified the blocking spell rather than Ron. Based on past experience, he also knew she was more likely to give an honest answer if asked a direct question. "What the blazes happened here, Granger?"

"Oh," she began hastily, momentarily taken aback by the question. "Ron-"

However, before she could begin Remus Lupin arrived, looking frazzled and worn. His eyes darted to Ron briefly before landing on Moody, his expression tense. "I just spoke with Tonks. Snape is alive but beyond that I can't tell you very much." He took a step forward and added in a low voice, "Considering the state that spell put him in it might be best if we allow a Healer to sort him out before we attempt any questioning."

Moody nodded but it felt like something wasn't adding up, there were too many unanswered questions. However, given what Lupin had just told him he knew they weren't going to get them tonight. Still it didn't stop him from thinking about them. Why would Ron take such an insane risk? The answer was both simple and unthinkable. Simple in that Ron had acted rashly; unthinkable in that he was evidently willing to risk his own life to avenge a perceived injustice done to his best mate years earlier.

Moody took in a deep breath. He had once accused Harry Potter of having a death wish, in fact it was the primary reason Potter declined to join the Aurors after the war ended, but did the same go for Weasley?

He hadn't thought so, now he wasn't so sure.

Shaking the thought aside he turned to address the two junior Aurors but just as he opened his mouth he caught sight of Ron, who was again rubbing his chest. It was the second time he'd caught him doing this but if his actions were a carryover from the altercation with Snape, the effects of a missed spell should have subsided by now.

"Weasley," he asked guardedly, the anger in his voice finally giving way to concern. "What's wrong with your chest?"

Ron hesitated a fraction of a second, then said, "Nothing," but it was clear by the looks on everyone's faces that his answer was falling somewhere short of the truth.

"Ron, now is hardly the time to play the hero," Lupin interjected softly. He was not surprised to see Moody reaction to his choice of wording. Clearly the Senior Auror was harboring the same thoughts. "Now what's wrong?"

"I dunno…" He said weakly. The dull ache in his chest had taken on an odd tingling sensation and a split second later his vision began to blur. Reflexively he closed his eyes trying to shake off the sick feeling in his stomach; however, this seemed to make matters worse. Gagging, he felt his legs give out and probably would have fallen to the ground had Lupin not stepped forward to catch him.

He heard someone call out and in that same instant there were a great number of voices surrounding the four Aurors. Ron opened his mouth to speak but couldn't. It was as if someone had turned off the part of his brain that made coherent speech possible. And for as much as he might have wanted to remain conscious, he found the effort was too difficult and allowed the darkness to swallow him.

_Four days later…_

The last place Harry Potter expected to find his best mate was a pub. The Burrow, Quality Quidditch Supplies, even Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, but not a pub and certainly not a Muggle pub at that.

But since he knew Ron wasn't acting like himself to start with, Harry supposed a pub was as likely as any other place for him to end up.

Slipping out of his cloak, he draped it over his arm and pulled open the heavy wooden door, releasing a wave of thick grey smoke along with the sickly scent of stale alcohol with it. There was an instant of near silence as he walked through the door, the low whine of the jukebox covering the lull in conversation as all heads turned his way before returning to their previous activities.

Smiling to himself, Harry wondered how long it took for the stares to abate when Ron walked in. For as modern as he might think he was, Ron was still a wizard and therefore not always adept at blending in with Muggles.

He took a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting before walking across the thin carpeting to the booth were Ron had secluded himself. The lanky red head was leaning back against the cushioned back with his eyes closed, swirling a glass containing an unknown amber colored liquid.

However, what really caught Harry's attention was the ashtray next to Ron. Resting in it was a lit cigarette, which trailed more of the acrid smoke. As he approached, he scanned the room again half expecting to see Mundungus Fletcher somewhere nearby, but Ron was alone.

Harry wasn't sure what he found most disturbing; Ron's taking off without explanation, finding him drinking alone in a Muggle pub, or the fact that he had evidently taken up smoking. All he needed now was for the reincarnation of Lord Voldemort to show up and this whole surreal experience would be complete.

Ron didn't open his eyes when Harry stopped beside the booth; he just motioned towards the opposite bench with his hand. Harry figured Ron must have spotted him before he managed to spot him but it was more likely that Ron had anticipated his arrival.

Taking a deep breath and immediately regretting it as second hand smoke filled his lungs, Harry tossed his cloak into the booth and sat down across from him. Resting his elbows on the scarred wooden table, he scanned the pub again, fully expecting attentions to drift away if he made prolonged eye contact with anyone.

When that didn't happen, he realized this might be the type of pub Muggles went to get in a fight because he got the distinct impression several of the patrons had already decided that of the two of them, he would be the easier target.

So in the interest of upholding the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, Harry waited until several women passed by on their way to the bathroom to cast a variant of the Muggle Repelling Charm over the booth.

When the last of the curious eyes drifted away, he turned his attention back to Ron and found him eying him with something that might have approached amusement had he not looked so put out.

"Bad idea, mate," he murmured, sarcasm running rampant through his tone. "You'll never get served now."

"No worries," Harry said with a mock smile as he nodded towards the glass. "From the looks of it, you've had enough for both of us."

Ron eyed him shrewdly as he held up his glass in a mock toast. "First one of the day."

Harry gave him a suspect look. "Ron, you've been here for a better part of the day and this isn't the kind of place that encourages someone to sit around for hours at a time without drinking themselves under the table."

He fully expected some type of retaliatory comment but Ron didn't even balk at his words. He just picked up the cigarette that had been smoldering in the tray and drew in deeply while staring at him thought the smoke.

For some reason, it was this lack of action which made him more than a little wary and for a moment he wondered if this even was Ron… was it possible… but then the red head tilted his head slightly and gave him a sidelong glance. In that instant Harry knew it was Ron. No one else in the world, not even someone using Polly Juice Potion possessed the shadows of knowledge that swam through those eyes.

But the realization that it really was Ron was somehow not reassuring.

"I didn't know you smoked," he ventured slowly, feeling now that his initial assessment of Ron having trouble blending in was completely off mark.

Ron sucked in on the cigarette and sent smoke swirling to the ceiling. "You never asked."

Harry raised a brow as he leaned forward on the table. "I didn't know I needed to."

Ron took another deep drag, stubbed out the cigarette and tilted his head back to release the deeply held smoke. "I don't smoke." With a twist of his lips, he tapped another cigarette from the half-empty pack on the table and lit it. "So how did you find me?"

Harry watched with a kind of detached fascination as Ron flipped the burnt match into the ashtray. "Were you hiding?" he asked.

Ron twirled the amber liquid in his glass thoughtfully, making it slosh against the edge. It took a moment for him to answer but when he did his normally easygoing voice had taken on a biting edge. "No, I just didn't expect you to find me here. I figured I'd run into you when I went home."

"You would have," Harry conceded, "but then it occurred to me that Hedwig has never failed to deliver a letter so I sent one to you and followed behind her."

Ron raised an eyebrow, a trick he picked up from Harry a long time ago. "That's not how you found me."

"No, but it makes for a good story if anyone asks." Harry turned and began rummaging around in his robes. He pulled out a small thin cylindrical object, similar to a Secrecy Sensor, and placed it on the table between them. "I didn't think you'd mind if I borrowed it."

"Borrowed my arse!" Anger flashed over Ron's face as he immediately recognized the object. "You nicked that out of my desk!"

"So what if I did?" Harry tried to look chastised but failed miserably since he was too relieved to have finally gotten some kind of response out of Ron that didn't involve sarcasm. "Ron, you can't sneak out of the hospital and then not be surprised when people come looking for you. Besides, if you didn't want to be found then you shouldn't have left it where I could find it."

"Crikey, do you know how much trouble we'd be in if you were caught using this?" Ron's face assumed the 'annoyed Auror' look as he yanked the pocket-sized Wiz-finder off the table and tucked it safely inside the folds of his robes. "Remind me the next time I want to disappear to be a little more... vigilant."

"Oh," Harry gestured with his hand, encompassing the pub, the drink, the cigarette. "Planning on becoming a regular here then?"

"Of course not," he muttered under his breath as he looked around. "The bathrooms are disgusting."

"Let me get this straight," Harry countered as he began ticking points off on his fingers. "You don't smoke, you hardly drink, and you think the bathrooms are disgusting, yet here you are." Arching an eyebrow slightly he asked, "Does this mean you have a different place in mind for next time?"

The edge of Ron's lips curled slightly as he carefully placed his glass back on the table. Folding his arms over his chest he leaned back in the booth and simply stared back. "Shouldn't you be at Quidditch practice or something?"

"Probably." Harry paused to consider his next course of action. He'd been warned not to say anything but confronting Ron now meant getting answers sooner rather than later. So in the time honored tradition of ignoring the sound advice of others he said, "But then I heard you resigned your position as an Auror so I figured I come and see what that was all about."

"Ah." For a moment there was silence as Ron leaned forward to tap the ash from his cigarette. "Moody?"

"No, Lupin," he corrected. "You want to tell me why?"

Ron's steady gaze didn't waver. "What do you mean?"

"We're not kids anymore so don't play games with me," Harry said impatiently.

His tone indicated the mere suggestion was somehow scandalous and in many ways it must have been because Ron's gaze sharpened slightly. "Trust me, mate, this isn't a game."

Harry's brow furrowed as he'd long since learned his best mate put off a number of very subtle signs that most people missed; however, in this case the signs would have been hard to ignore because everything about Ron's demeanor was screaming, _Let it go._

Taking a deep breath he said, "Ron, I know you but more importantly, I know Snape and he's pathetic." His voice dropped a notch even though he knew no one in the pub could see them, much less hear their discussion. "Everyone knows he never intended to surrender so-"

His voice faded. The movement occurred so fast for a moment he wasn't entirely sure that he'd even seen it. A slight shake of Ron's head indicating _No_.

"Let it go, Harry."

The statement startled Harry in both context and timing but Ron's tone, while amicable enough, had shifted to that of someone who felt he had finished the conversation and had no intention of starting another one. And suiting actions to words, he stubbed out his cigarette and began pulling his traveling cloak up over his shoulders.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked.

Tension thrummed through Ron's entire body as he slid towards the edge of the booth. He sighed harshly, one hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Home, Harry, I'm going home."

Harry waited until Ron walked past him to make his move. He'd intended to jerk him back into the booth by his cloak but missed and grabbed him by the wrist instead. However, before either of them could say anything Harry's entire body went rigged as an amazing surge of energy course through him. It was like being hit by a bolt lightening and for an instant all he could think of was heat. The intense, burning heat of excitement as arms slid over bodies; fingers moving anxiously over muscled backs and shoulders. Heat, as tongues moved slickly against bare skin.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up and closing his eyes Harry groaned inwardly thinking he must be dreaming because there was no other rational explanation for why he would feel something like this while holding Ron's arm in a Muggle pub.

"Oi! Everything okay over there?"

The voice snapped Harry back to reality and all too quickly he knew this was no dream… it was real… too real.

Jerking his head around, he saw the Muggle bartender move from behind the bar heading towards them. In a panic he tried to wrench his hand away from Ron's arm but for some reason found it impossible to do so. It was as if he were bound to him by some type of invisible cord. His heart felt like it was trying to pound its way out of his chest and he was on the verge of crying out when an all too familiar, not to mention unappealing, sensation of being squeezed through a tube came over him.

And without fully understating why or how it happened, Harry felt himself Disapparate out of a pub half filled with Muggles.

The throbbing in his head finally forced through unconsciousness as Harry struggled to open his eyes. If waking up on a strangely familiar couch with no clear memory of how he got there was troublesome, then seeing Ron at the opposite end nursing a bloody nose could only be classified as down right alarming.

"What the bloody hell happened?" he gasped out as he sat up, causing his head to spin violently.

"Give it a sec, mate." Ron's voice sounded strangely muffled coming from behind the washcloth he had under his nose. "Apparition has never been one of my strong suits and doing it forcibly is never a good thing."

"Well, it wasn't necessary," Harry growled through clenched teeth. "We're lucky you didn't splinch us in the process."

"Okay, it was probably a stupid thing to do but I had about two seconds to make a decision." Ron leaned his head back hoping it might help staunch the flow of blood. "I don't know why you're so bothered about it. I mean, you did it to me about a million times during the war."

"Not in a pub full of Muggles." Harry gave him a subdued, if somewhat perfunctorily glare as he rubbed his hands over his face, fighting the urge to scrub at his scar. Looking around he asked, "Why did you bring us here?"

Ron sat up and took a quick look around number twelve Grimmauld Place. "It's the only place I could think of that the idiots in the Improper Use of Magic Office wouldn't know to look." He glanced down at the cloth, trying to see if the worst was over before tossing it over to the coffee table. "Of course if Moody gets wind of this… well… I just hope Lupin tags along or I'm going to have a serious problem on my hands."

"You know what?" Harry interjected as he sat up, fighting off another wave of dizziness. "Even if Moody doesn't show up, I'd say you already have a serious problem on your hands."

Harry's insides churned nauseatingly as a wave of coldness washed through his body. His emotions fluctuated wildly but most prevalent were resentment and anger; resentment at Ron's callous treatment and anger over his complete and utter disregard for both their safety. But underneath all that Harry was unsettled, and very uncomfortable - possibly more uncomfortable than he had ever been in his life.

Nevertheless, he took a certain measure of satisfaction as the expression on Ron's face went from defiant to uneasy in less than a second.

"I guess I should probably go then," he said, though his tone indicated guessing wasn't necessary - he wanted to leave.

"No way," Harry replied, shaking his head for emphasis. "Not until I get some answers."

Once again he had expected some form of resistance but Ron merely nodded. "You mind if I clean up first?"

Harry faltered for a moment, then nodded. "Sure. I'll look around. You probably still have some clothes stashed away someplace."

"Thanks." Ron pushed off the couch and started down the hall towards the bathroom. Pulling the door closed behind him, he stripped down and turned on the shower. He stood under the hottest water he could stand for a full ten minutes before washing and rinsing himself off. Shutting off the water he climbed out and stood on the thick bath mat. Reaching for a towel he noticed a pile of clothing, which hadn't been there when he entered the bathroom, sitting next to the sink.

Feeling a twinge of guilt he wrapped the towel around his waist and after running his fingers through his longish red hair, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Swearing softly under his breath he closed his eyes trying to take several deep, cleansing breaths.

"I doubt that will help," the reflective surface cackled. "You still look like hell."

Ron opened his eyes and knowing better than to argue with a magical object, turned away while he dressed. Squaring his shoulders he faced the mirror again, then gave it a flip of his middle finger before walking out the door and down the hall. He'd just entered the living room when Harry walked in from the kitchen, a butterbeer bottle in his hand.

Apparently he too had taken the time to clean up because his hair was still damp and he was now wearing gray sweat pants, an old wrinkled Weird Sisters t-shirt and thick white socks.

At his upraised eyebrow Ron nodded and Harry disappeared back into the kitchen and returned with a second bottle. Thrusting it silently into his hand, he shoved past Ron and flopped down on the couch with his back to the armrest. Curling his right leg up he tucked his foot under his left knee allowing his left leg to hang loose.

"Well?" he prompted.

Ron suddenly found his own socks extremely interesting and stared at them like they might give him a way to get out of this. "I'm not sure where to start."

"How about with the truth, you pratt!" Harry spat out, finally allowing his anger to have full reign. His back was ramrod straight and it felt like his spine could easily snap in two from the tension.

Ron toyed with his bottle for a moment before resuming his position on the opposite side of the couch. The warning not withstanding, he's already decided a lie was not an option especially since Harry's unexpected conversation with Lupin made that impossible. Besides he was easily looking at a fine of around a hundred galleons for violating roughly a dozen statutes of Wizarding law in order to get Harry out of situation he never should have been subjected to in the first place.

That alone entitled him to the truth… or at least as much of the truth as he could stand to hear.

"It isn't that simple," he began again.

"Obviously," Harry retorted as though Ron were a bit dim. "If it were we wouldn't be having this conversation now would we?"

"You think you could lose the sarcasm for a minute?" Ron nearly shouted but the bespeckled wizard continued to glare at him, apparently not at all satisfied with the route he was taking. Unconsciously mirroring Harry's posture on the couch, Ron sat back and gave him an exasperated look. "Look, I'm trying to explain but you need to hear this from the beginning or it isn't going to make sense. Now do you want to listen or do you want to keep interrupting me?"

It was clear Harry wanted to interrupt; however, he deflated enough for Ron to feel he could continue without further disruption. Ron nodded his head in silent appreciation and cleared his throat before speaking.

"The Daily Prophet plans to run a story about Snape's arrest. If I'm not mistaken, the Minister of Magic will be quoted as saying Snape attacked without provocation and that I was forced to defend myself."

This was met with yet another exasperated look. "Well that certainly explains why you felt the need to resign."

"Actually it does."

Harry opened his mouth to disagree but something in Ron's face, an expression he wasn't sure he recognized, made the words dry up in his mouth. He leaned back on the couch, studying him intently. "Okay, other than why Rufus Scrimgeour is still Minister of Magic, what am I still missing?"

Ron shifted around on the couch so that his forearms were resting on his thighs, one hand dangled loosely between his knees while the other held tightly to his butterbeer bottle. "When you talked to Lupin earlier, did he mention the Auror's Report?"

"No," Harry replied, still eyeing him warily. He was getting the distinct impression that Ron was trying to piece together how much he already knew. "Should he have?"

Ron took a deep draw off his butterbeer, his eyes far away. He shook his head. "No…"

"What are you not telling me, Ron?" he demanded bluntly.

Ron seemed to consider this for an inordinately long period of time before saying, "Part of the reason I resigned is because what Scrimgeour is going to say isn't going to mesh with what's in the Auror's Report."

Harry gaped at him. "He can't do that. I mean Scrimgmeour might be a lot of things but he isn't stupid. He has to know Moody will never stand for that."

"There's more." Ron cast his gaze downwards and sighed audibly as he knew his next statement would effectively open Pandora's Box. "When Snape and I were taken to St. Mungo's, Moody had someone - probably Lupin - use Priori Incantatem on both our wands."

Harry was momentarily caught off guard by this piece of information. He gone to St. Mungo's the night Ron and Snape were brought in and no one, not even Hermione, had mentioned this to him. Of course this was the first he was hearing of a lot of things and judging by the look on Ron's face he got the impression this might be information Hermione didn't have at the time. "Why would he do that?" he prompted.

"Because I was in no condition to answer questions and he needed to know what spells were used so the Healers could reverse the damage done to Snape."

Ron paused, looking over at him expectantly but Harry just frowned wondering where he was going, what the problem was. However, he also got the distinct impression this was something he might need to hear in small manageable chunks. "Okay, so why didn't he ask Hermione? I mean she was right there."

"He did." Ron's voice was subdued but steady. "Contrary to what Scrimgemour might imply, Hermione never heard Snape cast a spell… the best she can do is assume we both used something because of the state we were in."

Licking his lips, Harry leaned forward slightly. "Did Snape attack you?"

"In a manner of speaking," Ron glanced away as a somewhat guilty shadow crossed over his face. "Although what he used is hardly classified as an Unforgivable Curse and clearly he wasn't trying to kill me when he cast it."

Harry digested the information slowly, weighing the possibilities in his mind. "So the spell did hit you."

"Well," Ron shifted uneasily as this was a rather direct question; however, it required more than a yes or no answer. "Let's just say he didn't miss."

"Then what's the problem?" Harry demanded. "I mean as much as it pains me to say this, it sounds like Scrimgeour and the Prophet are going to get the story right for once."

"Harry," Ron voiced softly, "I never cast a spell."

Harry tried to keep the surprise out of his face but it was impossible as he suddenly felt stripped bare; a certain indefinable but overwhelming sensation began building inside him. Involuntarily he shivered, trying to will the disturbing echoes and equally disturbing thoughts out of his head.

Yet they were determined. Stubborn.

"Then why is Snape still in St. Mungo's? I mean if you didn't cast a spell, who did? Hermione?"

"No, she didn't cast anything…. at least not on Snape." Ron scrunched his face up in an uncharacteristically anxious sort of way before running his fingers thought his hair, making it stick up at a rather interesting angle. "When Snape contacted the Ministry and agreed to turn himself in, he knew Aurors would be tasked rather than the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It was a double edged sword because he knew what to expect from Moody and the others but Hermione and I were unknown factors because of our friendship with you. I think he expected one of us to try something because he thinks everyone holds a grudge the way he does."

This time when Ron paused to look at Harry a missing piece of the puzzle clicked into place and for as much as Harry might have wanted to deny it, he knew what Snape must have done.

"He wanted a way to defend himself against the two of you," he whispered softly. "So he used Legilimency, didn't he?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah, but I think he must have combined it with a Memory Charm because I doubt he wanted either of us to know what he was doing. He probably figured he could pop in, take a look around, then use a Memory Charm to cover his tracks." He shook his head ruefully. "The kicker of the whole thing is… it would have worked."

"But it didn't."

"Right, but only because Snape assumed I was the bigger threat."

"Or the easier target."

Ron huffed out an explosive burst of air but opted not to respond to the blatant gibe. "Anyway, if he'd picked Hermione he would have known she modified a defensive Shield Charm and cast it on me."

"Were you planning to attack Snape?" Harry asked pointedly.

"No," Ron said honestly. "Trust me, the thought of waylaying Snape never even entered my mind and that's saying something. But Hermione took a more pragmatic view of the situation. We knew it wouldn't stop a Killing Curse but she figured it might slow down anything else he might try."

"So the two of you expected him to try something."

Ron nodded. "So did Moody, which is part of the reason he's so hacked off at me. He gave me an implicit order to stay back but I didn't listen." He paused and took a deep breath. "Anyway, by the time Snape realized his mistake it was too late; Hermione's charm had been triggered and bounced him out of my head. Trouble was it pushed the Memory Charm aspect back with a lot more power than he expected. He couldn't get out of the way fast enough and that's what scrambled his brains."

"Sorta like what happened to Lockhart down in the Chamber of Secrets." Harry gave him an odd look, causing the little line between his brows to deepen. "Then what does Scrimgeour think he's playing at? I mean Snape is a complete pratt and what he did was wrong but it hardly constitutes an attack especially since-" his voice suddenly turned introspective as the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place. Instantly, he understood why Ron found it necessary to resign from the Aurors. "You still haven't told anyone what Snape did, have you?"

"No, I haven't."

"Why not?"

"Because it won't change anything."

"How can you know-" Harry suddenly fell silent. "Wait, a second… Lupin would know what happened to you… he had to because of Priori Incantatem…" He blinked several times in rapid succession as his brain finally finished processing what had once been a substantial amount of conflicting information. "That's why he told me you'd taken off… he knew I'd come looking for you… he must have figured if you wouldn't tell Moody what Snape did, then you might tell me."

Ron nodded but said nothing.

"But you didn't tell me."

Ron suddenly found himself on the receiving end of was shaping up to be a very accusatory look. "I just did."

"No, you told me part of it but not all of it." Harry ran his hands over his face a couple of times before saying, "You still haven't explained what happened in the pub tonight but my guess is it has something to do with what Snape did."

"Ah," Ron hesitated as he'd been wondering when or if Harry would even broach this subject. "It's called residual echo. It happens when one spell traps elements of another spell on a person. It's pretty rare, hell even the Healers didn't catch it."

"That's why you left the hospital early," Harry said in a low tone. "You didn't want them to figure it out."

"Well, it's part of the reason," Ron admitted. "But it's not permanent so the effects should fade out completely in the next day or two." He paused again. "I think the only reason you picked up on it tonight was because we came into direct contact and you really wanted to know what happened."

"An echo." He leaned forward slightly on the couch, watching Ron carefully. "So are you're telling me when I grabbed your arm tonight I saw the same thing Snape did?"

Ron's answer was non-committal. "I guess that depends on what you think he saw."

Harry dug his tongue into his cheek, feeling very annoyed and not at all amused. Setting his bottle down on the coffee table he pulled off his glasses and began rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. Clearly Ron had no intention of discussing the matter unless Harry acknowledged what he'd seen.

Which put the Snitch squarely back on his end of the Pitch.

"What do you expect me to say, Ron?" He blurted out, wincing at the harsh tone of his voice. He took a moment to get his emotions back under control so by the time he finally looked back at Ron it was to pin him with an icy expression. "I mean how am I supposed to deal with something like that?"

Ron settled back into the corner of the couch, crossing his arms over his chest as he did. "I don't expect you to deal with anything. I never have."

Harry started to respond, then stopped. Tendrils of resentment were unquestionably entwined with honest regret making it difficult to determine if Ron was being belligerent or apologetic. In the interest of forgoing another yelling match he opted to choose his next words very carefully. "Does Hermione know?"

Ron placed his butterbeer bottle down next to Harry's and scrubbed his face with his hands, searching for an answer and finally setting on the truth. "Yeah, she does."

After a few moments of silence, Harry realized he wasn't going to elaborate and it suddenly occurred to him that Ron wasn't going to voluntarily give up any information unless hard-pressed to do so. "When did you tell her?"

"I didn't have to. She figured it out on her own."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek in an effort to maintain his rapidly diminishing composure. "Okay, then why didn't you tell me?"

Ron gave him a blank, puzzled look, and then said, "You never asked."

Harry winced as the statement was a bit too reminiscent of their earlier conversation about Ron's smoking. But more importantly he knew it was true; he hadn't asked. Of course it never occurred to him that he ought to ask the question either. "What about Lavender Brown?" he prompted.

Ron's eyes widened at the name, but the initial surprise passed quickly bringing with it deep lines of concern. "What about her?"

"Well, I mean you were all over each other for the better part of Sixth Year. And then when you broke up, you and Hermione-"

"Harry, Sixth Year was what made me realize I might have a problem," Ron interjected. "And since you seem dead set on having this discussion, when have you ever seen me snogging Hermione?"

"I haven't. I just assumed the two of you would get together, that's all."

"Yeah, well so did my Mum and a lot of other people." Ron said with a sigh. "You know, you should never make assumptions, Harry. They have a nasty way of coming back to bite you in the ass."

For reasons he would have been hard pressed to explain that simple comment was enough to send Harry right over the edge and his anger erupted with a ferocity that surprised even him. "Oh, so now you're the authority on assumptions?"

"No." Ron fell silent again. Once he'd accepted the fact that they were going to have this conversation he'd anticipated a number of responses on Harry's part. Unfortunately, this wasn't one. "Why are you so upset?" he asked.

"Why am I upset? Gosh, Ron, let me see... I suppose it's because I feel a little strange about popping into your head and finding out you've been having fantasies about-" he waived his hand around in an arbitrary manner searching for the best way to say it and finally settled on the obvious. "About me!"

There was a second moment's silence as Ron absorbed that. "And that makes you upset?"

His face was serious but it was the complete impossibility of Ron's question that made Harry all the more upset. "Yes, it does! How did you think I was going to feel?"

"Honestly I have no idea. I mean I figured you'd be angry about the whole Snape thing, but-" Ron shrugged, "I guess I just didn't expect you to get this upset about what you saw."

"Well, then you're a complete idiot on top of everything else." Harry snapped irritably.

Ron scowled but decided to give him that one as he was reasonably certain any rebuke on his part was going to earn him hex marks that might be hard to explain later. However, Harry's defensive posture certainly raised a few questions in his mind. "Can I ask you something?"

Folding his arms over his chest Harry gave him a defiant look. "Not if you're planning to change the subject."

"No, it's not that." Ron pressed his lips tightly together. "I'm just wondering why you were so quick to assume that what you saw had anything to do with… well… you."

Harry's jaw dropped. "You're kidding me, right?"

"No, I'm not. I mean we've been best mates for a long time now. We've put our lives on the line for each other more times than I can possibly count but you've always made it a point of keeping me at arms length," Ron continued evenly. "So it begs the question of why you would think I fancy you of all people."

Harry was clearly taken aback because Ron's assertions hit entirely too close to the mark for his liking. Why did he assume it was him? After all, what he'd seen could have pertained to any number of blokes, the least of which were him. Moreover by calling their friendship into the equation Ron had bypassed Harry's defensive armor and gone for straight for his tender underbelly.

And he'd drawn blood.

Finding himself in uncharted waters, Harry looked at Ron sourly and resorted back to sarcasm, an old defense mechanism. "Oh so you're telling me what I picked up was some fantasy you were having about Neville or Seamus then."

"I didn't say that either." Frowning slightly, Ron added, "But even if it was, what difference does it make to you?"

"Because I'm pissed that's why!" Harry seethed, but the words sounded desperate not to mention hollow. Whether it was the timing or the inadequateness of the words, he wasn't sure but something about them got Ron's attention because when he next spoke, Harry was surprised at the detached calm in his voice.

"Are you pissed because Snape took a little stroll though the recesses of my brain or because now you're worried what you saw really didn't have anything to do with you?"

The question was so unexpected that Harry just sat there, stunned. "No," he replied a bit too quickly.

However, the subtle contention in his voice was as tangible as a slap in the face and Ron knew he was trying to answer both questions with a single answer, neither of which was entirely accurate. "Fine, let me try asking this another way. Are you in love with me, Harry?"

Harry was again struck mute by such a simple question. Six words, well… seven if someone were to count his name, but he wasn't going to, and he didn't figure Ron was either. Anyway, six little words, but they cut straight to his core and like it or not he was in it neck-deep now.

_But you don't have to be,_ a little voice inside his head told him. _You could walk away._

Harry pushed off from the couch and began pacing around the living room. Pacing was not something he did often, but every once in a while there were occasions which called for it.

This happened to be one such occasion.

Instinctively he knew if he were to change the subject Ron wouldn't object which meant the matter would never come up again unless Ron decided to pull another disappearing act, and the odds of Harry being able finding him again were diminishing because he knew once again Ron had right. He had kept anyone who could possibly love him at arms length.

Why did he care who Ron wanted to snog?

The answer was simple. Because it was Ron… _his Ron_… and somewhere along the line the protective wall Harry had built around himself had been more directed at his best mate than anyone else. But it was coming down now, revealing the truth of why he'd been fighting so hard to keep it up in the first place. But he still had a long way to go because this was a situation he had refused to acknowledge up until now.

The truth was, he expected it to be him because he wanted it to be him

"Well?"

Harry flinched at the sound of Ron's voice and was startled to discover the red head was looking at him expectantly, his face holding a rather neutral expression. However, the question was still bouncing around Harry's head like a Snitch with too much momentum.

Are you in love with me, Harry?

"I..." Harry began but his voice quickly drifted off. His mind wasn't exactly up to the task of forming sentences outside his train of thought. "I don't know…"

"You don't know or you don't want to answer?"

It was posed as a question but it came off as an accusation and Harry took it as just that.

"Piss off!" he shouted, his emerald green eyes snapping furiously but he found himself unable to meet Ron's ice blue eyes any longer and looked away.

"I take it that it's the latter, then."

"Don't get all self-righteous on me," Harry retorted as he walked to the far side of the room and stared out the window into the inky black night. "If you had been honest with me from the start we wouldn't even be having this conversation."

"Oh so you would have been up for a quick snog between classes then, eh?" Ron gave him a scathing look which Harry missed completely because he still had his back to him. "Yeah, I'm sure Ginny would have been thrilled to hear that during Sixth Year."

Harry felt his body stiffen. "Not funny."

"It wasn't supposed to be," Ron answered, still looking irritated. "Now come here and sit down so I can explain."

"No."

"No?"

"No," Harry reiterated softly. "I don't think sitting next to you right now is such a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Because right now I feel like hitting something and there's a pretty good chance it's going to be you."

It took nearly a full minute for Ron to register the implied threat. While he seriously doubted there was any veracity to it he thought it would be best if he kept that particular opinion to himself lest Harry decide to prove him wrong on principle. "Okay, what makes you think I didn't tell you a long time ago?"

Harry had to think a second because the question completely caught him off guard. "Probably because I've never heard you say the words."

"Well, then you haven't been listening because I have."

"You know a lot has happened to me over the years, Ron, but I'd like to think I would remember hearing something like that." Harry turned to look at him and Ron was taken aback by the icy rage in his flashing green eyes. "Especially from you."

Ron merely shook his head as the expression on his face tightened slightly. Clearly a great deal of enlightening needed to be done and he figured he might as well begin right now.

"Harry, I have told you - maybe not in a traditional kind of way - but I have. Blimey, don't you realize that anybody can say the words? Because that what they are; words. They're thrown around by every witch and wizard on the planet but with you it's different."

Harry felt himself being pulled back on the defensive. "How so?"

"Because any time someone even acts like they might care about you, you shut down and start worrying they're going to get snuffed or something." Ron drew in another breath, releasing it slowly. "If I had told you how I felt two years ago it would have meant walking away and I wasn't willing to do that because I knew you needed me Harry - as a friend - nothing more."

Harry cocked his head slightly, his brow creased in annoyance. "I'd really appreciate it if you'd stop using our friendship as justification for lying to me."

"I never lied," Ron interjected quickly as he got to his feet. "At best it was an omission of the truth… but I never lied to you."

"Crikey, you sound like Dumbledore! He said almost the same exact thing to me in Fifth Year after Sirius died." Harry's eyes were fixed on Ron but he felt some of his rage shift to something else… something he couldn't quite put his finger on so it didn't prevent him from continuing the attack. "Well you know what? You can call it whatever you like; it doesn't change what you did and it damn sure doesn't make it right."

"Well then I can't very well regret it now, can I?" Ron snapped back. "But I can do this."

And before Harry could react, Ron was standing next to him. Pulling him close, he placed his hands on Harry's shoulders and lightly pressed his lips against Harry's.

The kiss wasn't completely chaste nor was it totally over the line but Harry's body went stiff and almost immediately Ron regretted the impulsive act and felt an overwhelming need to explain. "Harry-"

"Don't…" he stuttered. "Just… just give me a sec okay?"

Ron fell silent and went to step back but for some reason found it impossible to do so. It wasn't until he looked down that he realized Harry's hands had moved to his waist, effectively holding him in place, preventing him from pulling away.

He suspected Harry had no idea where his hands were so he just stood there and a few seconds later, the dark haired wizard seemed to snap back to reality as the full impact of what just happened hit him. "I don't think I can pretend that didn't just happen," he whispered softly.

Ron tried to keep his face impassive but the faintest outline of a frown made its way though the mask. "Well, I suppose I could try my hand at a Memory Charm but given my track record I don't think it's such a good idea."

"No, definitely not," Harry said under his breath as he dropped his hands and stepped back. However, he continued to stare intently at Ron. It was as if he were seeing him for the first time and in many respects he probably was. "You should have told me… you should have told what Snape did… about how you felt about me… all of it. Least then you wouldn't have had to go through it alone."

Ron gaped at him. Of all the statements he could have made, Harry had somehow picked the only one for which he had no immediate answer. He rubbed the back of his neck and stared at his feet for a moment before looking back up. "You're not still thinking about hitting me, are you?"

Harry shrugged sheepishly. His face was masked in the somewhat detached expression Ron knew he reserved for especially uncomfortable situations. "No..."

"Well that's good," Ron's eyes narrowed slightly but a slight grin tugged at his lips. "You had me worried there for a moment-"

"But I'd be lying to you if I said I wasn't a bit concerned," he interrupted.

"About what?"

"You," Harry spoke slowly. It sounded as if he were choosing his words deliberately. "I'm concerned about you."

Ron seemed genuinely confused by this. "Why?"

Harry started to reply but stopped as his own hesitancy bothered him. He wasn't scared… he just wasn't sure how to explain. He knew the connection between them had always been there but if tonight was any indication it had been he who never fully appreciated it for what it was.

However, Ron had recognized the connection and accepted it for what it was because he understood the nature of the wound that made Harry who he was. And over the years, it had been Ron who witnessed the pain and ache that lay beneath that wound, the wound that had taken far too long heal. He had watched Harry personalize and absorb within himself countless situations all of which led back to the same possessing demon that ran through him. And it had been Ron who stood by him when the demon was conquered… and silently he watched as Harry rebuilt his life… knowing it was a life that might no longer include him.

For a moment Harry tried to imagine how difficult it was for Ron to say the things he had tonight, knowing there was a very good chance Harry would not respond in kind.

Yet he had done it.

And in that moment Harry understood why. Walking away wasn't an option for Ron… it never had been.

In the end Harry knew there really was only one thing he could say and strengthening his voice he asked, "When were you planning to tell Moody you were just yanking his chain when you dropped your resignation on his desk?"

Ron looked at him like a second head had just sprouted up out of his shoulders. "Why would I tell him something like that?"

"Because it's true. If you were serious about resigning then you would have Apparated out of the pub as soon as you saw me walk in tonight," Harry said calmly as he walked back over to the couch to sit down. "Don't get me wrong, if you want to quit then I'm fine with that. But if you quit because telling the truth might have meant walking away from me then forget it. I don't want that to come between us especially since people are going to figure it out sooner or later anyway."

It took a moment for Ron's brain to register this as he'd been expecting a very different response.

He opened his mouth to argue but then his brow creased as he became aware of a second, and possibly deeper, meaning to Harry's statement. "What exactly are you getting at?"

Harry sighed but his gazed remained fixed on Ron. "Do you need me to spell it out for you?"

"I think maybe I do." Ron paused. "Especially since about three minutes ago you were trying to figure out away to pretend your best mate didn't just kiss you."

"Yeah, well, a lot has happened since then and I'm not going to lose the best mate I ever had…" He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. "Not when I have the chance to have so much more."

The ensuing silence was nearly deafening. "Are you sure about this?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, I am." Harry felt strangely hurt by the question, though he understood why Ron felt the need to ask it in the first place. "Besides, no matter what I may think or feel about Severus Snape, if you think for one minute I'm going let the Rufus Scrimgeour or any one else in the Ministry skew what happened then you really are an idiot."

Ron seemed to engage in some kind of a silent struggle before moving to sit next to him on the couch. "You know that's the second time tonight you've called me an idiot. If you're serious then I'm going to have to ask you to stop doing that."

That prompted a smile. "Fine but since we're on the subject of things one of us needs to stop doing," Harry began as he slipped a shaking hand under Ron's jaw, "no more smoking. It's disgusting and makes kissing you something akin to licking an ashtray."

"When was the last time you licked an ashtray?"

"I think you're missing the point."

"Muggles don't seem to have a problem with it."

"Oh yeah? Well, I do," Harry said irritably as he had no desire to ask Ron how he happened to know this bit of information. "So if you expect to keep kissing me then I suggest you stop."

"I already told you, mate, I don't smoke." Ron gave him a wry smile but it was obvious from the look on his face that Harry expected some kind of promise. "Did you want me to cross my heart and hope to die?"

Harry said nothing as he curled his fingers around the nape of Ron's neck, wordlessly pulling him forward. This kiss was much different than their earlier one but in Harry's opinion it was better because this time they were both ready for it. But when it ended, it was he who pulled back first although his movements were much slower and laced with obvious reluctance. He smiled faintly as his hand slid from behind Ron's neck. "I think your word will be sufficient."

"Good," Ron said, sounding breathless. "Because I don't think I could make another promise like that without you having a serious problem on your hands," he concluded with grin. He was trying to gauge Harry's reaction to the thinly veiled innuendo and his smiled broadened slightly as Harry barked out a cough to cover his own nervous laughter.

Gently Ron raised his hand to brush an unruly strand of hair out of Harry's eyes. "Don't worry… I know we need to take this slow."

Harry shuttered involuntarily as he tilted his head into the palm of Ron's hand. Closing his eyes he pulled in a deep breath as he took yet another step into uncharted water. "We don't have to stop," he whispered hesitantly. "I mean we can finish what we started."

"I don't doubt that," Ron said lightly. "But you're just now catching up to the place I've been for a while now. If it ever does happen I want it to be right."

Harry opened his eyes and after a few moments of awkward silence, slid in close so that Ron's arm was now draped casually over his shoulders. They were silent for a time, each of them content to settle for the comfort of the other's presence. Harry was just drifting into a light doze when he heard Ron say, "I should probably go."

Harry groaned in protest as he shifted around on the couch. "Don't go."

Ron frowned a little. "I don't know if that's such a good idea."

Harry's eyes fixed on him with such intensity that Ron could feel it on his skin. "Why? Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do." Ron rubbed at his face, trying to wipe away his growing exhaustion. "But I've got to go see Moody in a few hours and it would be best if I didn't look like I've been up all night trying not to snog you."

"You could always tell him you'd been out drinking all night," Harry responded, playing along.

"Yeah, well. I don't know if that would be much better and you know how Lupin is… he's liable to smell you on me from here."

Harry felt his face flush. "I'll explain it to him latter. In the mean time, I'd feel better if you stayed. As tired as you are, if you try to Apparate you really will splinch yourself."

Pushing himself up Harry grabbed his wand and tried to summon a blanket from one of the bedrooms. After the third failed attempt he tossed it aside and threw his arm over his eyes in disgust. "Blimey… you'd think I'd never summoned anything before in my life."

"I'll do it," Ron said quickly as he needed an excuse to get some distance between himself and Harry, lest he lose his resolve to wait. Pulling his wand out, he summoned a blanket and then as an afterthought cast an Engorgement Charm over the couch so they were able to lay comfortably side-by-side. Once Harry got settled, he climbed over him so he could spoon in behind him. "Happy now?"

Harry nodded and laying back listening as Ron's breathing slowed and as his body relaxed against him. Unconsciously he tightened his hold on Ron because he knew his friend was in for a rough couple of days.

"Ron?" He whispered, not looking over at him but following the measure of his breathing.

"Yeah," he replied.

Harry paused. "They aren't just words."

It took a moment for his sleep addled brain to make the connection but once he did Ron opened his eyes and looked over at Harry with a smile. Lifting his hand, he traced a long finger over his scar, brow line, down the sharp ridge of his cheekbone, finally coming to rest on his lips. "I know."

Harry smiled as he felt Ron pull him tight, drawing him into his arms protectively. Not for the first time that evening he felt a little overwhelmed as he considered the magnitude of everything that had happened… knowing what had changed between them and the fallout it would bring. Yet as strange and surreal as it felt to lie there with Ron, it was warm and for the first time in his life Harry felt… safe.

Which suddenly made him saying the words much more important.

"Ron?" When no intelligible response came Harry glanced over his shoulder and saw that Ron's eyes were closed, his face relaxed, without tension. He was falling slowly in to slumber and Harry didn't think he would actually absorb anything he might say. "Um, never mind. I can tell you in the morning."

"Mmmm," Ron mumbled, his voice sounding thick and drowsy.

Harry back lay down with his head resting just below Ron's chin, listening to his even breaths and the gentle thumping of his heart. All too soon he too began to feel drowsy but he stopped himself from succumbing to sleep. Awake or not, he had to say them now.

"I love you too," he whispered against the base of Ron's neck and just as he closed his eyes he saw Ron smile.

And with that Harry fell asleep, feeling like things were going to work out... maybe not today, probably not tomorrow, perhaps not even next month.

But for now, everything was going to be all right.


End file.
